Jan 11, 2006 21:55
Last night Corey and I were sitting in the man-cave, burning CD's and surfing while the children ran wild through the rest of the house. We were hiding, really. As the conversation died down we became aware of a high-pitched, constant noise in the room. It was weirdly distant and difficult to triangulate. One by one, we powered down computers, monitors, laptops, halogen lamps, everything we could think of but the sound would not stop. I went outside thinking that it might be a stuck brake or something on the trains that run two blocks from our house. Nothing. Corey checked the kids' rooms above the den, thinking it was a toy gone berserk. Nada. The whole time we were searching, we kept having to snarl at the kids to be quiet which I think scared them. All four were sitting bug-eyed on the steps, ready to flee for their lives at any second.
It was a high pitched and dissonant sound, like the sound your ears make when you've taken too much aspirin. It seemed to be coming from the books shelves toward the outside wall so Corey opened all the games up there that might be battery powered. But other times it would seem like it was coming from the opposite corner so I was crawling under Corey's desk listening to his sub-woofer for feedback. At one point Corey shut off all the lights and tried to shut me in the dark room--the shutters on the windows admit zero outside light so it was pitch black in there--and you know, every scary movie I ever saw flashed before my eyes. I kind of panicked a little and wouldn't let him shut me in there alone.
Finally I wondered what else could possibly be battery powered in the room. I found "Chicken Limbo" on a shelf behind the door and pulled it out but no sound. The sound got louder, though, when I moved the box out. It had to be on that shelf. It ended up being one of those noisy books, the "push the button when the corresponding picture shows up in the story". We hate these but as it was Animaniacs and it had these great porno sounds like wet slaps, splorches of fluids, rhythmic metal squeakings, and Jakko's ooh's and aah's, so we kept it around. It has to be about 7 years old. When I finally located it, it was emitting this high-pitched battery wail that seemed too big for the nickel-sized speaker in it. I immediately exorcized the batteries and threw it away. Corey said, "I'm glad we found it. I was worried that I was going a little crazy. That was totally the sound that insanity makes."
adventures in parenting